


Fate

by moloch



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Fluff, M/M, Red String of Fate, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, so in progress it's not even funny
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-24
Updated: 2014-02-20
Packaged: 2018-01-02 13:29:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1057323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moloch/pseuds/moloch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Only 53,000 people on earth had the "condition", and of course, those two chucklefucks had to get it as well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introduction

The strings weren’t tangible.

 

At least, they weren’t meant to be.

 

Sometimes, if you were lucky, you’d be able to catch a flash of red out of the corner of your eye, in your peripheral vision. The strings, all connected, would sometimes flow easier if your soulmate were moving about or feeling some sort of deep emotion – and then you’d be able to see them for a split second. Then you’d know if they were possibly traveling or upset.

 

Of course, you could never _do_ anything about it. Maybe see which direction they’d move in if you were quick enough, or speculate about the type of pain they were in.

 

Sometimes, people didn’t pay attention. They didn’t need to, they were too busy (too scared). A million excuses that would only lead into them having grown old, wrinkled lines on their faces, hair gone grey or white, alone. _Where were their soulmates?_ people would ask, their own hands clasped with their lover’s.

 

There were ways to find your soulmate if you were old and grey, desiring a bit of happiness before your time ran out. Or if you were young, reckless, and impatient. Pay a bit of money, find your other half. Simple as that. Get an injection, the string would become tangible, and you were on your way.

 

Once you finally met The One, a wave of euphoria would wash over you. No matter if you bumped into them on the street or used unconventional ways to find them. The purest happiness would take over your body. Your strings would glow under your skin.

 

And there were rules.

 

1\. You couldn’t see your string, with extreme exceptions.

 

2\. There are cases in which you never find your soulmate.

 

3\. There are ways to find your soulmate early (or if you have no other choice), but you would have to pay. That method is considered desperate and unconventional, supposedly only as a last resort.

 

4\. Your soulmate was your soulmate. You didn’t get two. You couldn’t “switch” soulmates.

 

There were exceptions to the rules.

 

1\. If you had _chorda rubra sua_ , your red string became tangible at the age of four. It would be visible under your skin, and it would shoot out, connecting you to your soulmate in extreme cases such as horrible sorrow.

 

2\. If you had _chorda rubra sua_ , so did your soulmate.

 

3\. With _chorda rubra sua_ , there was a countdown to the moment you met your soulmate. However, no one could see the counter. Not even you.

 

4\. Your string disappeared one day before you met them. When the string disappeared, you’d experience harsh nausea.

 

Approximately 53,000 people in the world had _chorda rubra sua_.

 

Michael Jones, of Rage Quit fame, was one of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is so in-progress it's not even funny.
> 
> A million thanks to 'G' who left the most helpful comment on this chapter and gave me a proper translation of "to see the red string", which is what I used for the name of the "disorder" that Michael has.
> 
> Rating as well as relationships will change over the course of writing (possibly characters as well).
> 
> Anyway, I hope you like it so far. I'm trying to get my thoughts together as well as the proper plot.


	2. A Case of Normal with Two Exceptions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geoff was one of the many "normal" babies born in 1975.
> 
> Later, the world was introduced to two exceptions, known as Michael Jones, and ...who?

**_Before_ **

****

Geoff Ramsey was born a healthy child. No defects, no disorders, nothing except for a giggly laugh, crinkly eyes, and a smiling face.

 

His red string had flashed briefly - _properly_ at birth, notifying the nurses that he didn’t have chorda rubra sua. He’d have an easy time growing up.

 

He enlisted in the army before graduating high school, staying in from 1993 to 1998 before working as a photojournalist in Kuwait afterwards.

 

Sometime between the years after Geoff Lazer Ramsey left Kuwait and 2005, after meeting Burnie Burns and several others, starting Rooster Teeth, and voicing Grif in a little something called _Red vs. Blue_ , Geoff bumped into a beautiful woman named Griffon O’Connell. And Geoff Ramsey, who had never fretted over the red settled under his wrist, next to his veins, was faced with his first confrontation with the idea of his soulmate.

 

His heart had stuttered. His trademark smile had taken over his face, brighter than ever. The euphoria he had laughed at sardonically, unbelieving, when he was younger, was now settled in his soul. He stared into the eyes of the woman in front of him, who was smiling as well, her eyes nearly scrunched up completely. They laughed at each other. They were soulmates, and they had found each other. Geoff reached out slowly and found her wrist before turning it over. He glanced down, and he saw there, past his wave of euphoria, a glowing light under their skin.

 

Later, Griffon O’Connell became Griffon Ramsey.

 

And so on.

 

-

 

 

**_Sometime In Between_ **

****

“It doesn’t mean anything, Mrs. Jones.”

 

“Like hell it doesn’t mean anything, what is that Latin _shit_ you just spouted out at me?”

 

The nurse raised her eyebrows at the tired, frazzled woman in front of her, clutching a newborn child in her arms. Her baby had just been born three hours previously.  Her husband was next to her, quiet as ever, his hand resting gently on his wife’s arm.

 

“Mrs. Jones, it’s honestly not – ”

 

“No. _No_. What does it _mean._ ”

 

She blinked slowly, finally casting a glance down at her baby. “What is Michael going to have to go through?” Her worst fears seemed to have come true. She saw an early death for him. Cancer. Everything terrible that she could think of flashed through her mind.

 

The nurse shook her head and took a step forward. “His – his red string will become visible at age four. His soulmate will have – have _it_ as well. There’s a countdown for Michael – but no one can see the countdown. And his string will disappear a day before he meets his soulmate. That’s all, Mrs. Jones. It’ll – it’ll be fine.”

 

Mrs. Jones let out a breath she didn’t know that she was holding. “Oh,” she whispered out softly. Her husband let out a tiny laugh and leaned over to kiss her forehead. “He’ll be okay.”

 

-

 

**_After The In-Between_ **

 

 

“Mama?”

 

“Yes love, what’s going on?”

 

Michael Jones padded into the Jones’ kitchen, clad in his tiny little orange bear onesie. His sleeve had been manhandled up. His forearm was red.

 

“Mama, my arm!” he spat out, staring curiously at the glowing red line under his skin. “Whatsat?” he muttered, his right hand raising up to stroke at the red line on his left forearm.

 

Mrs. Jones came up to him and knelt down on the kitchen tiles to get a closer look. She blinked at the glowing red line that had become visible under his skin. Her mouth fell open, and she remembered what she had been told all those years ago. When her newborn baby had been diagnosed with _chorda rubra sua_.

 

She closed her mouth. Opened it again.

 

“Mama?” Michael questioned quietly, casting glances between her and his arm.

 

Mrs. Jones turned her head slightly to look behind her, where a couple of balloons were splayed out haphazardly across the room.

 

“Happy Birthday!”

 

She didn’t have to get up to see what she had been writing on the cake set on the kitchen table.

 

“Happy Birthday, Michael! You’re 4 Years Old!”

 

-

 

**_Before_ **

 

 

“He has _chorda rubra sua,_ David.”

 

“It doesn’t matter, honey. Everyone who’s ever had chorda – _whatever_ turned out fine.”

  
“Like _who_?!”

 

“Like all those celebrities with the goddamn thing!”  
  
“Give me an example, David.”

 

“Didn’t, uh… the Queen have it?”

 

“No, David.”

 

“…He’ll be fine, Maria. Seriously – he’ll be fine.”

 

“He’d better be.”

 

“He _will_ be.”


	3. Backstory

 

 

**_In-Between, once more_ **

-

 

The red cord had made itself known on Gavin’s fourth birthday, as expected.

 

It had flashed angrily under the little boy’s flesh, terrifying him; blinding him for a short moment, and making him run to his parents’ bedroom as soon as he saw it. He tripped inside, screeching, “Mum, Dad! Mum! Dad!” over and over until they woke up with a start, Maria tossing her hair out of her eyes nervously and reaching over the side of the bed to her son. David turned over and immediately got himself half out of bed before Maria laid an arm over his chest, muttering, “It’s just the thread, the cord, it’s okay —” As her little boy whimpered quietly, grabbing his forearm.

 

“Honey, does it hurt?” Maria asked, stroking his hair back gently. “It’s not supposed to hurt, sweetheart,” she blurted out, keeping her tone soft as she silently cursed that idiot nurse who had told her everything would be fine. 

 

Gavin met his mother’s gaze for a brief beat before cautiously looking back down at his hand, which was covering the red of his wrist and arm. He moved his hand slightly, and his veins sparkled. Immediately, his hand was moved off, and he giggled down at his wrist. Moments later, it all faded, settling into his veins. 

 

Maria let out a deep breath, shaking her head at David. 

 

“He’s fine?” Gavin’s father questioned quietly. 

 

Maria gave him a short nod before turning back to her son. She patted his hair down once more before sighing heavily and kissing his forehead gently. 

 

“Go back to bed, darling.”

 

Gavin scrunched up his nose, his hand back at his arm, rubbing gently at the soft skin there. 

 

“Don’t wanna,” he spat out childishly. 

 

David reached out to his wife, touching her arm calmly. 

 

“I’ll take care of it.”

 

-

 

**_After_ **

 

“What the _fuck_!?”

 

The lovely expletive had not left the mouth of the redhead locked in her bedroom, her exhausted body splayed out on top of her bed, too lazy to even get under the covers that had once promised sleep and warmth. Instead, the angry phrase had been spat out by her fantastic roommate, one Michael Vincent Jones. Who was currently playing video games. In his room. Loudly. 

 

“This _fucking_ lag!” Michael screeched, and right after: the familiar sound of plastic hitting wood - his controller being thrown against his desk. Oh. Great. If Michael had broken another goddamn controller, she would end up being the one going in there to calm him down. Jesus.

 

“That’s it, I’m fucking done with this bullshit, fuck you, fuck you especially — bye bitches.” she heard Michael spit out before loud footsteps moved across the hall. 

 

“Linds!” he shouted before bursting into her room violently. She groaned into the mattress. “Yeaaaaah, what is it now?” she managed, tilting her chin up slightly. She wasn’t even facing him, her gaze now fixated at her curtains. They were a beautiful, calming blue. Lindsay felt as if she could drift off to — 

 

“Lindsay, help,” the nuisance demanded, and Lindsay snapped her gaze away from the blue of her drapes to the brown of Michael’s eyes. She raised a delicate eyebrow before squirming around until she was belly-up, staring him down. “What.” she muttered emotionlessly. 

 

“Our internet connection sucks dick. Fix it.” 

 

Lindsay scoffed, patting the empty space next to her on her bed. “Yeah, okay, Mikey.”

 

Michael flopped down next to her, finally resigned. “You gonna do something about it?”

 

“You’ve regressed, asshole. I’m not your fixer-upper. You want a better internet connection, you pay for it.” She rolled her eyes, turning slightly until she was facing his jawline. Just in time to watch his mouth quirk up into a grin. 

 

“Yeah, I know.”

 

Lindsay huffed out a short breath. “I know you know.” Her eyes moved to Michael’s wrist to check on the squiggly thread that trailed from his wrist up his arm and disappeared under the sleeve of his green sweatshirt. “Still glowin’?” she asked, rolling back over onto her back. 

 

“Yep.” Michael said. He wasn’t one to really care about the whole “soulmate” thing. In the years they had been friends, and the couple of months they had been roommates in the darkness of New Jersey, Michael had never been one to give a single fuck about the fact that he was one of only 53,000 people in the world who was able to see his own red cord. Lindsay, on the other hand, was normal as normal could be, and she knew that if she could see her own string, she’d be _obsessed_. Like a normal person. She closed her eyes briefly.  Michael was different. He had always been, and not just because of the stupid string. He was overly loud, screechy, sometimes childish, but always mature. If that made sense. But — he was lovable. He, Lindsay, and their other friend, Ray, were the _best_ of friends. And if Michael hadn’t been gay, he and Lindsay would’ve been banging every night, as in love as two people could get (Michael’s words, not hers). But Michael was, and as it had been — so was Lindsay. Like, on a scale of one to Elton John, she and Michael would be, like, Neil Patrick Harris gay. _Cool_ gay. 

 

Lindsay decided to stop thinking. 

 

She and Michael laid there for a few short minutes before she reached out and curled her hand around Michael’s wrist, pulling it up until she could see it in front of her. 

 

“Ya know, it looks like your veins are glittery.”

 

Michael coughed out a laugh, pulling his arm back immediately. “Shut the fuck up.” 

 

She suppressed a giggle. “Nah, but — manly glitter.”

 

“Linds, I hate you,” he muttered quietly.

 

“Love ya too.”

 

-

 

“Hey, Burnie.” 

 

“Yo, Gavin! So…I have your flight information for next week, buddy!”

 

The man on the other end of the line smiled. He ran a hand through his light brown hair, wanting to scoff at the utterly surreal experience he was having. He was going to the United States for a whole bloody _month_ to work on Red vs Blue. To work with Rooster Teeth. His fucking _dream_. And it was happening. 

 

“God, really? Everything worked out fine?” Gavin’s bloody voice was shaking slightly. He hoped Burnie couldn’t tell. His hands were shaking too. He was so nervous. Jesus. 

 

“Yup. I’ll email you the details, how’s that sound?”

 

“It sounds bloody top, Burnie.” Gavin couldn’t stop smiling.

 

“Fuck yeah it does! Anyway, I told Geoff what was happening, and he said he’d be perfectly happy to take you in. Which basically just means we don’t have to pay for hotel fare for you. Which is good, because…no.” Burnie laughed happily before continuing. “That okay?”

 

“Still sounding amazing, jesus.” He’d be getting out of the UK. He’d be working with his idols. He’d be working with his idols on Red vs Blue. Even better — he’d be working with his idols on Red vs Blue in _America._

 

He heard Burnie laugh again. “Alright, buddy. I’ll email you everything. You hang tight and keep working on that visa!”

 

Gavin’s stomach twisted slightly. His visa. Fuck.

 

“Got it, and — yeah, I’m on it! Won’t disappoint you.”

 

“Great, great! I’ll call you later.” 

 

“Sure — bye, Burnie.” 

 

 _Click_. 

 

Okay. 

 

Yup.

 

It was happening.

 

Gavin was going to shit himself. 

 

He was going to Texas. 

 

But he still had to work on his visa. And it seemed like progress on that was going absolutely nowhere. He bit his lip, his hand moving up to tug at his hair again. 

 

He had worked on so many movies, wasn’t that enough? He was one of the few people in the world to work a slow-motion camera. According to Burnie, he was special. At least in that respect. But with editors and directors not crediting him in the movies, he didn’t have enough proof for that stupid title he needed for his visa. The only other thing that set him apart from the rest was the stupid red settled under his flesh. 

 

 _Chorda rubra_ whatever.

 

One of 53,000 people in the world, huh? And he couldn’t even get a visa. 

 

Gavin bit his lip, moving to his desk situated at the far end of his room. 

 

Well, he would’t stop trying, if that’s what anyone thought. Not only Burnie was cheering him on, but so were Geoff and Dan, and his parents. And he bet that if his cat, Lloyd, could speak, he’d want Gavin to get the fuck out of the country, too. They believed in him. Gavin just couldn’t bring himself to believe in himself. 

 

He snatched a piece of paper that had been sitting on his desk for weeks. 

 

_Hit Dan in the mouth in slow mo_

 

_Film giant water balloon explosion with Dan and George for theslowmoguys_

 

_Dumb idea - smash mugs at different fps? Could be cool - will fuck up resolution though_

 

_what if i slapped dan in slow mo?_

 

These ideas were supposed to get him permanently in America. 

 

Well, he was fucked. 

 

He threw the paper back down onto his desk. 

 

But in doing so, made a mental note to film the water balloon explosion idea when he got back from America. It’d be fun and might cheer him up in between jobs. 

 

With that, he spun around and grinned at his luggage that had been packed for weeks. 

 

He was on his way. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait, my laptop was rendered useless in December. I basically gave up on trying to do anything on it, but I just got a Mac for my birthday, so here's the new chapter! It's more backstory, because I really do have to explain myself more. I might compile these three chapters into one because it's pathetic how short they are. Anyway, Gavin's backstory is obviously from Game Time with Burnie, which you should see if you haven't. It's amazing. I don't remember all the details, but y'know. It'd make more sense if you watched the video.
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me! I got a lot of comments asking for the continuation of this fic. <3


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